Turn from Shadow
by Liquid-Goddess-Reformation
Summary: Thom and Naranda take a trip to Carthak for a Mages convention, however, their holiday gets sidetracked when the Graveyard Hag asks them to help free a tortured assassin from servitude to an evil Black Robe Mage, but can they succeed?
1. Arrival in Carthak

I'm not Tammy, I don't own Tortall…okay, fine _and_ I don't own Carthak either! Dream-wreckers…I hope you choke on an orange peel! Okay, yeah, just kidding. 

For any of you who have Read my Tammy story **Providence Smiles**, (which I suggest you read by the way, it isn't necessary to understand what goes on here at all, but please read it anyways, and review, I like reviews), you'll remember that I put the story in parts, this one doesn't have parts, it's not set up that way.****

Read! And! Review!   
Turn from Shadow 

By LGR

**Chapter One: Arrival in Carthak**

"Thank every god in existence!" Thom yelled at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of the entire crew of the ship as well as nearly every passenger.

Master Numair Samalín ignored the exclamation with his usual choice of distraction, notes on a magical spell, a few of the other mages onboard rolled their eyes, and Master Lindhall Reed looked very confused as to what the commotion was about.

Thom's best friend Naranda looked almost as relieved as he did, "Thank the Gods indeed," she said dryly, "You've been looking a nauseous shade of green, and clutching at anything close at hand, (including me) for the whole trip."

Thom's Blondish-red hair tied back in a tail, pallid asking-for-a-sunburn complexion, very powerful mage-gift, and shorter than average stature weren't the only thing's he'd inherited from his mother; he'd also come away with an extreme intolerance for water travel.

Lucky him.

He'd barely managed to keep anything down for the last few days, and though he'd inherited his mothers short-ness, as it were, he'd come away with his father's thin frame. He looked rather skinny and scholarly at the best of times, but right now he looked half-starved. Which he was, sort of.

It was probably hard for most people to believe that he had the newly attained rank of a Black Robe Mage, Gods, he barely believed it himself, but it was true. Not four weeks ago had he completed the Ordeal of Sorcery at the highest level and passed the brutal tests of magical strength, ability, skill, and control.

It was true, he still hadn't the shear brute power that his adoptive Uncle Numair commanded, but Thom was still as strong as they came, and he had the ability to do far more fragile spells that took far greater control than Numair could gather with his magic reserves at full strength.

It was a huge achievement that had been celebrated with all his family and friends, and he'd thought it was the greatest thing to ever happen to him…

…Unlike this trip, which was by far the worst. The happy memories had distracted him for a moment, but as soon as he came back to reality he had a violent gag reflex and nearly spilled the little he'd managed to eat for breakfast.

"Naranda, when we get to Carthak, I'm going to sleep, and then I'm going to eat something and it will stay in my stomach," he professed. She shook her head exasperatedly.

Naranda, a year younger than him at twenty-one, also was unlucky enough to have a very pale complexion (he absolutely _hated_ to think how much money they were going to spend just on _sun-bloke_ for this trip), as well as white-blond hair and emerald colored eyes. She also had the look of a clerk, with her wire-framed glasses.

She, too, was a mage, her power and skill near his own, though he was almost certain she didn't plan on trying for the rank of Black-robe, for reasons he could only guess at.

She'd been his first friend at the university, and they'd been best friends and partners ever since.

However, despite their great friendship, he had the strangest feeling that he embarrassed her sometimes, which was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't help thinking it.

Especially when her eyes were half-lidded and she adverted her gaze from Thom, trying to ignore him.

Like she was right now.

"Land! Land!" Despite Naranda's best efforts, she was red with embarrassment when, as they docked, Thom threw himself at the ground.

"Damnit Thom! We know you're obscenely happy to be out of that boat, but _must_ you _announce_ it like that!" She screamed as those making their way along the port were giving the raving redhead a wide berth as they shot him odd looks and tried to go about their business.

"Must I? Must I?" he asked not really paying attention, as he did a strange dance that could possibly have been some sort of deity-worship-ritual.

Stepping down from the ship, a few of the other Mages who had also came to attend the Mage conference in Carthak were betting on how long it took for Naranda to cuff Thom and drag him along, as carts came to help transfer their baggage to the Carthak University located near the Palace.

Numair tapped Naranda on the shoulder, not showing that he found Thom's dancing, which had now progressed to making "wooh-waah" sounds and waving his arms and swaying, in the least bit out of the ordinary.

"Naranda, do you mind getting Thom to finish up here? We're about ready to head out." he asked, barely looking up from his notes.

"Sure thing, Master Numair, I was getting pretty tired of it myself." She said and walked inside the ten-foot radius around Thom that had been evicted as he'd started his dance.

There was a small argument as the gambling mages disputed whether agreeing to stop Thom was within the parameters of the bet, but it was quickly decided that it wasn't and so everyone kept their money with slight disappointment.

However, their own disappointment was soon replaces by winces as Naranda boxed Thom on the shoulder and carted him off.

"_That's_ what we were betting on? _Hell,_ I almost feel _ashamed_ for wanting to see someone put through that! _Ouch!_" one of the mages said as Thom whimpered slightly after the blow, but apparently it hadn't been as bad as it looked because he didn't seem permanently injured, or even in too much pain.

Oh yeah, but it _had_ hurt. Thom was still rubbing his shoulder when they arrived at the university, were given a tour, shown rooms, and left to their own devices until dinner, when there would be a great feast in the Grand Hall.

Finding Naranda placed next to him at dinner wasn't much of a surprise. His mother had set her to the task of keeping Thom out of trouble _personally_, and she seemed to have taken it to heart. And he was still massaging his shoulder.

"Did you really have to hit me so hard? I bruise easy…" he asked her as he took his seat.

The University of Carthak was going all out for this mages conference. This was a banquet one would expect in the palace itself, not a University. And the perfectly sheer Limestone walls and shining gold accents everywhere told him that it must have been renovated recently, either that or kept up _very_ well indeed.

A servingman, which we was surprised, and relieved to notice, did not seem to be a slave, but a hired servant: not only was he missing a slave collar, though Carthakis didn't always outfit their slaves with them, he just didn't have the air or behavior of a slave, nor any of the other sighs that one was a slave.

_The Carthaki University must really want to show a good face to the rest of us,_ he thought.

But Naranda didn't seem impressed, "This is like my Aunt Chandri's dinner parties all over again."

"What do you mean?" he asked her, slightly confused, as savory looking food was brought out and placed before them. Thom's mouth watered; he was starved after that Boat trip.

"This 'little kids table' nonsense, the _nerve_ of them!" she said and he understood.

There were multiple table's set everywhere around the hall, but in the center was one twice as large as the other, holding about twenty people. The people seated there were the most powerful and most recognized mages in the surrounding Kingdoms. Numair was there but Lindhall Reed wasn't; and neither was Thom.

There was also a very arrogant looking man seated there coated in gold and jewels.

"That's the head of the University, he's Master Sjahreed," a girl who looked younger than both him and Naranda said from Naranda's right.

She was a rather short looking girl of fifteen or sixteen, with a kind voice and dark eyes, coppery skin and black hair. Her clothes were in typical Carthaki white cotton, but she was ornamented with many gold bangles, earrings and rings with jewels, as well as kohl and some gold face-paint. She was most likely the daughter of a powerful Carthaki noble, but Thom could see that she wasn't here for nothing; she had a strong Magical Gift.

"And your name my lady?" he asked politely, and Naranda shot him a look before turning back to eye the girl suspiciously.

"None of this my lady nonsense; I'm just Tahiri." She said with a smile, "and I know what your friend means by 'kid table', it's been like this the whole time I've been here."

"It's Naranda," she told Tahiri, seeming to warm up to the girl, "Oh, and this is Thom." She said off handedly, pointing to him. Thom didn't respond to the obvious tease; he just rolled his eyes at her.

"Well, you already know my name but—Oh, here everybody comes now!"

The table had been empty except for the three young mages but now four more people came in a gaggle to be seated at the table.

"Hi Tahiri, are these the mages from Tortall? I hear there are _two_ black robes with them! _Two_!" exclaimed a woman who looked slightly older than Thom, with very dark skin and eyes and very curly hair with red coloring to it. She had the accent of a southern Carthki, as well as being very tall and athletic looking despite her being a mage.

"This is Jamila," Tahiri said pointing to the woman, "That fellow there is Ehioze, he's Jamila's twin," Tahiri explained pointing to a very tall male that was undoubtedly Jamila's relation.

"This dark haired fellow is Nakik, he's from the copper Isles," she said and Thom was surprised to see that the man was a _Raka_ and not _Luarin_. He had a similar build to Thom and looked rather shy.

"And that is Gorden there, he's from Tusaine." She said, indicating a very average looking brunette haired young man of about eighteen; he smiled at Naranda but she shot him a frown. He seemed unfazed by it.

"Everyone, this is Thom and Naranda. They are put out by that shunning to the far table as much as we are." She said as the crew was seated and served.

"Actually, I'd much rather be here than up there any day," Thom said, pointing to the middle table.

"Well, I doubt any of us would be up there even they weren't being biased because of our ages," Ehoize said through a mouthful of steamed vegetables and meat; his accent matched Jamila's to a pinch.

"Why shouldn't we be up there?" Gordan said, taking a bite of his own food, "Where as powerful as any of them!" he said angrily.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Gordan," Nakik said soothingly, "They are way more experienced than us. None of us is older than Twenty-five."

"Why should that matter?" Naranda added, Gordan beamed but she ignored him.

"Age isn't everything." She said and she bit at her fork just a little more forcefully than necessary.

"Yes, age doesn't necessarily have anything to do with talent or even experience or good instincts. And older person, even if they've been doing their job for longer than someone like us, isn't always better than them at doing that job. And lack of experience can be made up for in determination." Tahiri agreed.

"Heck, knows we've worked as hard as anyone of them in our apprenticeship, to pass our tests and ordeals, harder even. We deserve some measure of respect." Jamila replied.

"You all have Mastery?" Thom asked curiously, there was a round of nods, even from young Tahiri. "Wow, I agree, they should be honored to sit with _us_!"

"Yes, yes." Ehoize agreed.

"So what was this about there being another Black Robe, Jamila?" Tahiri asked her, Thom contented himself with eating his food, very hungrily, and everyone seemed to notice.

"Slow down, Thom," Gordan joked, "The foods dead, it isn't going anywhere."

"Thom hasn't eaten much the past week, boats make him nauseous." Naranda explained for everyone.

"That's right, you all are from Tortall, you must know about the two black robes." Jamila exclaimed.

"Yes tell us!"

"You must know, come on!"

"Well, Master Numair Salmalín is up at the table with the rest of those fuddy-duddys—" Thom said.

"Haha, fuddy-duddys…" Gordan snickered.

"He's not a bad guy like those stuffy-looking characters, he's practically my uncle. He used to live here actually, but I won't go into all that." Thom finished and took another bite of food. Every one was looking at him, expecting more, except for Naranda who just looked a little bored.

"And—?" Jamila added.

"And what?"

"And what about the other one. There are two." Ehoize clarified.

"The other is Thom." Naranda said blandly and what met by a show of bulging eyes.

"You?"

Thom sighed, shifting his food with his utensil, "Yes, I know, I'm not at all like one would expect."

"Especially not after that episode on the docks." Naranda added dryly as everyone continued to stare.

"I am not ashamed." He said plainly and took another bite.

"That's what's so disturbing about it."

"Wait…what?" Tahiri was the first to recover from shock, everyone one else was still blinking uncontrollably at Thom who was looking slightly uncomfortable at the attention.

"You know how I said him and boats don't agree well?" Thom snuffed at Naranda's comment, "Well, when we got to shore he yelled, 'Land! Land!'

And did the most ridiculous dance."

Gordan's face twitched slightly at the corners and everyone else looked a little skeptical.

"It was my happy dance, didn't you like it?"

"For you sake Thom, I'm going to pretend you never said that."

"Now I know who you remind me of," Nakik said with a grin, "The Cunning One, Alianne! You're her wizard older brother!"

"There are more of you?" Ehoize looked nervous.

"I only have two younger siblings and neither of them are mages." Thom admitted.

Nakik snuffed, which seemed an odd action considering just a moment ago he had seemed quite withdrawn, "That one doesn't need to be a mage. She does miracles as it is! Drives everyone insane, too, her _and_ her husband."

"Oh, really? I met Nawat, he seemed like a nice enough man—crow—person—whatever…" Thom said.

"Yes! I am usually assigned to help the Crows, and Nawat is in charge of them, and Alianne always comes down to eat with us once or twice a week in the mess." He paused slightly, "You don't by any chance know what a Makyara is, do you?" he asked.

Both Thom and Naranda chocked on their food.

"What!" Naranda exclaimed.

"She joked to us about it once, I didn't get the joke." He said innocently. Makyara was an extremely provocative dance done between lovers in certain areas of Tortall, Thom didn't even _want_ to know what sort of joke she'd said.

"Um, I'll tell you later I suppose…" Thom said hesitantly.

"Hey everyone, look!" Jamila said, interrupting the odd moment and pointing to a man who was walking over to the big table.

The man in question was about in his late thirties or early forties, with dark hair and eyes that seemed hidden under shadows. His Carthaki attire was died-black cotton and silk, and he was draped in surprisingly little jewelry and most of what was there was simplistically classy. He walked in a straight-backed fashion, but it almost seemed as if he was stalking. He was one of the more copper or olive toned Northern Carthakis, not the darker southern tribes. His expression was stern, but not particularly aggressive looking. However Thom thought that there was something off about him, though he couldn't explain.

"That's him! There!" Jamila insisted.

"What do you mean? What's so special about that fellow…" Naranda asked, taking the words from his mouth.

"That's Master Negus," Tahiri said, her tone now serious, "It's an open secret that he hates other mages, and thinks rather highly of himself, He's a Black Robe too, you know. There are only eight in the world and we have three here right now." She looked slightly awed. Thom was just happy she wasn't staring at him any more.

"If he doesn't like other Mages than why did he come?" Naranda inquired.

"I don't know…"

"Master Negus is strange enough, but you have to hear this," Jamila said and they all crowded together to hear the news.

"They say Master Negus brought an _Assassin _with him." She whispered.

"What!"

"It's true! He has a bunch of slaves that he brought, and one of them is supposedly a mage-assassin. He kills mages. The law enforcement has been trying to pin him down with something for years, but they can't prove anything. There are all kinds of Mage murders they think he's done!"

"Jamila, that doesn't sound very accurate, or probable…" Gordan said.

"You'll believe me once you see that assassin." she said, "He's strange. Nakik and I saw him earlier, didn't we?"

"We did," he said with an odd expression, "I'd believe he was an assassin, though I don't see how anyone could kill a mage. I'd be difficult, not having magic himself, even if he could catch one off-guard."

"He was shadowing Master Negus while we were looking in the temples, then we saw the assassin by himself outside of the Temple of the Graveyard Hag. I don't know why he'd be there…" Jamila said.

"Even assassins pray to the gods. So why not?" Thom said.

"I suppose…"

"You're over reacting Jamila," Gordan said, "Someone would have caught him by now if he was really an assassin," he was shaking his head.

That was the end of the conversation until dinner was over. They all made plans to meet-up the next day and go out into the city together and then Thom went up to his room, hoping to catch up on some much needed sleep.


	2. Assassin's Chance

I don't own Tortall, or Carthak…or much of anything really…

Hey people, if you like this story, or even if you didn't like this story, check out my other Tortallan fic **Providence Smiles,** please!

**Review Responses!**

**Ace Ryn Knight**, man thanks for reviewing my new story! You're the first! Woohooo!

Actually yes, I have read them. I read them about eight years ago I wouldn't call them new, per se. Yes, I know the girl has a similar name, I think it's kind of sad that I remember after all this time. I'm not sure if it was Tahiri or Tahari. I have a good memory when it comes to books. I did, however, not get the name from those books. I was originally going for the name Tahirih but I decided the 'h' at the end looked stupid, so I just chucked it. It's Arabic and means 'pure and virtuous'.

I read like the first four of those books but the library at my house was sadly lacking in the kids novels department, actually it was lacking in every department. I don't even know if that was the last of them or there are more. I liked them. Master Ikrit! Haha, I liked Melody, it's a shame she turned into a fish or whatever, I think her name was melody; in the third or second book I think. Anakin was pretty angst if you ask me; he feels sorry for himself for no apparent reason. Tahiri was cool, raised by Tuskin Raiders, that's spiffy. Yup, see? I really do know what you're talking about.

The shitty thing is, if you read what's suppose to happen to all the characters in Star Wars, it's just pathetically depressing; everyone dies, one way or another. We already know I hate sad endings, so the whole thing with Star Wars is I don't want to know the characters, because I know they die. Damn my curiosity that led me to Star to snoop at future characters…man, oh well. Read and Review please!

**Nativewildmage**, Yay! You read it! Bi-polar? Well, no I'm not but you're right, my writing is odd sometimes. A story is supposed to be serious, and then all of a sudden someone cracks a joke or says, thinks, or does something really stupid. I'm pretty eccentric. Sorry, this took so long! The next one won't, I don't think. I'm going to try and update it once a week at least, so check back everyone in a while, and thanks for the review! Keep reviewing!

**Pure777christine**! You're a brand, BRAND new reviewer! Awesome. And no I don't plan to chip this away. Heck no. I just hope you guys like it. This chapter isn't funny like the other. And don't let me go to the bogeyman! I am TERRIFIED of the bogeyman. It's all a product of watching _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ when I was younger. I am freaking STILL scared of that movie. Seriously, I can't help it. Thanks for reviewing! Read and review again!

This is where it starts getting serious people. This is also where you'll find why it's rated Teen.

**Turn from Shadow**

By LGR

**Chapter Two: Assassin's Chance**

Myrduk stopped.

Knowing there was someone watching him, he didn't turn to see who it was, but acted as if he were just admiring the scenery.

Trained from the humble age of five in the ways of the spy, the mage, and the assassin he had many techniques and skills to his repertoire, and he could easily distinguish the features of his observers, despite the fact he could only barely see them out the corner of his eyes.

There were seven of them; three looked to be native Carthakis, the others were not; they were all mages. He could see that all of these mages were fairly powerful; three would nearly equal Master Negus, who was a Black robe.

_So they were the one's he was fuming about,_ Myrduk thought.

The night before, his Master had come to the house he was renting for the convention, (he couldn't stand to be in the same building as so many other Mages), and wrecked all of the furniture in the sitting room in anger, then came to his senses and repaired everything in within a fraction of a second.

Predictably, the servants and slaves were in an uproar, scared half-to-death, and those who could, immediately asked to quit, although as they all found out, you aren't done with Master Negus, until Master Negus is done with you. Myrduk himself had been leaning across the doorframe of the sitting room, not flinching an eyelash, but as anxious as one could be. When his master was in such moods, awful things happened to him.

Master Negus's finance and estate manager, secret-keeper, spy-master, and general right-hand man, Uktah, barely responded to the outburst except to sigh in frustration; he was the one who'd have to deal with the servants; they hadn't brought many slaves, excluding Myrduk, of course.

Master Negus owned a vast marques-fiefdom in the southern area of Carthak. About a quarter of that land was dessert, holding great ruins of pyramids, tombs and lost cities; another quarter was vast planes of savanna on the border of the Banjiku tribes' homeland; and the rest was tropical rainforest and coastline. It was in the dessert area, in a large city known as Jyptikaht, where Master Negus had hired Myrduk for an assassination, from the Assassin's guild. He'd done such a good job, that Master Negus had captured him as his own slave.

A member of the Assassin's guild was usually taken in from the streets when they were very young, some begged to be taken in, others didn't have a choice; Myrduk didn't have a choice.

Because of this, they were practically slaves and lived off the mercy of the guild, and so had very little freedoms; you didn't go or do anything the Guild didn't want you to, and if you _did_ do something that was forbidden, it was a guild of _assassins,_ and every single one of them would be after you.

The heads of the guild were older, retired assassins, who ran and assigned jobs; not always killing, but information gathering and stealing operations as well. Unfortunately however, Myrduk was very good at killing. He was smart, skillful, quick, and quiet; the best the guild had had in years, so that was what he was always assigned.

He'd hated killing, and had seen life as a slave to be almost a relief. A valued slave was fed well and supplied with what they needed, and an assassin was definitely a valued slave. Perhaps he wouldn't have to kill nearly as often, who had that many enemies? Little did he know what being enslaved to an extremely powerful egomaniac might mean, not that he'd any choice.

Walking as casually as he could through the streets, he found that the group was following him. He almost laughed, except that he didn't find the situation at all funny as someone else might. There was no chance they'd catch him doing anything, for one he was too good, for another he wasn't even on a job right now. But despite that, if they gave him too much trouble, Master Negus might order him to kill them.

Over the years he'd been suspected of many crimes, however, this was not because of any hard-evidence; in fact all the suspicions upon him sprung directly from his Master.

Master Negus's view of other mages was known throughout the lands he held sway over. He had _such_ a reputation in fact, that a soon as a string of Mage-murders began to occur, the authorities immediately did their best to perform an investigation on the Mage and those of his household.

Or at least as much of an investigation as they could manage, considering Master Negus had no reason to cooperate and the law-enforcement had absolutely no way of making him. People just didn't mess with Mages, especially Black Robed Mages; and _most_ especially Master Negus.

By now, however, ten years later, it was pretty much an open secret that if you showed too much potential, or anything other than complete submissiveness in Master Negus's eyes, you were putting at risk for assassination.

But there was no way they'd ever catch Myrduk in the act, nor any evidence to his guilt: his master had taken care of that as well.

Myrduk nearly shuddered every time he remembered the countless experiments that made him part of the success he was today, most were painful to some extent and had changed him utterly; they had _not_ been good experiences for him.

_Don't think about them_, he told himself. There were just some things that a human being should _never_ have to go through, and Myrduk had been subjected to a great many of them.

He'd prayed everyday of his life to the gods, and after the first such experiment upon his enslavement to Master Negus, Myrduk knew that he did _not_ want to live out his life as the Mage's personal assassin and bodyguard.

But he'd realized there was nothing he could do, so he'd began going to the Temple of The Graveyard Hag, Patron Goddess of Carthak, known for her trickster ways, and her manipulation of chance, as much as he could, and praying for her help in deliverance. It would take a colossal bit of chance and luck for him to be given citizenship; Master Negus would never chance selling him. Nothing short of a miracle was likely to make a dent in his situation.

_Hmm, those mages are still there_, he noticed, _I need to lose them_.

Walking into a nearby crowd of people rushing from another temple, he felt the spells engraved into his being begin to take affect, and when he turned his head slightly, he saw that the young mages were quite confused as to where he had gone, despite the fact he was quite out of place among the rest of the bustling people.

He sighed in relief; he would hate to have to kill them, as strange as that was to say considering his profession.

Myrduk proceeded to walk through the meandering alleyways and streets of the Carthaki capital city to an area where the rich and highborn rented town houses for prolonged visits.

This area was much less crowded then the market or temple squares had been, but he wasn't given a second glance by anyone as he walked like a shadow to Master Negus's temporary abode.

He nodded to the doorman, a servant, not a slave, who hastily let him in the door. Myrduk was known here by all the servants and would always give him what he required without question. This might have seemed a security risk; he could get anything he wanted at anytime. However, it was also well understood by the servants and slaves, that the assassin didn't so much as twitch a finger without the approval of the Mage.

Which was very true, Myrduk was terrified by his Master.

Myrduk went through the hall and up the stairs to the second floor, then the third, where Master Negus's apartments were, but more importantly at the moment, where Uktah the manservant's quarters and office was contained.

Master Negus himself was not presently in the household, but at the University; likely when he returned there would be another round of destruction of furniture and Uktah would have to reassure the hired servants for a _second_ time in the past two days, but that wasn't what Myrduk was worried about.

Crossing the heavily decorated hall, the assassin came to Uktah's office and knocked once.

"You may enter." Came an immediate answer; a _very_ few number of servants were allowed to enter this room; and Myrduk was the only slave.

The assassin, stepped into the room without making a sound, listening and secrecy spells that were covering the entire room flared their brilliance for a moment as the opening of the door temporarily interrupted the spell's working, then subsided back into their proper state as it closed once more.

Uktah sat at a very large desk covered with papers, documents and notices. Bookshelves and drawer holding special or secret papers lined the walls. A large window took up one wall that led to a balcony, (not very secure in, Myrduk's opinion but then again his opinion wasn't what was important.) In front of the desk were two fairly comfortable chairs. Taking one, he crossed his arms and sat.

"So, boy, back from the temple I see? The Graveyard Hag listen to you're prayers, whatever they might be?" the man asked sadly; Uktah's situation was similar to Myrduk's own, though the his was most assuredly not anywhere near as dire as the assassin's, however he couldn't know that. Myrduk just shrugged.

Uktah himself was a tall, very dark black man in his early fifties; his very short white hair, and very white teeth made a striking contrast against his dark skin. He also wore silver spectacles on his nose, which looked very out of place, considering the man's build and stature made him look like a one of the strong and lean Swahijiti hunters that ran after jaguars in the jungles.

In fact, he had been an animal hunter in his younger days, the many animal furs and hunting equipment he'd brought on the trip, now hanging in the room on the walls and stands, attested to that.

"I don't think the God's care for the likes of me." Myrduk answered, his voice caring a strange, electric-inhuman quality. The many spells, charms and magic rituals that had been incorporated into his make-up by Master Negus, had left their mark in many ways, but most easily recognized, was the sound of his voice. Because of this, Myrduk hardly ever spoke to anyone if he could get away with it.

"The Gods like anyone who likes them. I don't have a clue what you want from them, but they might get around to it eventually, as much incense as you light for them…" he shook his head, "it's a waste of money, I say. It's really a miracle you get any sort of stipend as it is."

It was true. He was a slave, not a servant; Master Negus didn't have to pay him. In fact, he really didn't pay him, just gave him some money when he was especially pleased with the assassin, these strangely happy moods came unexpectedly, and it wasn't altogether unusual for the Master to be extremely cruel in the next breath. This made Myrduk extremely wary of the mage.

These sudden changes of emotion and behavior were what made Myrduk most afraid of his master. One day he would be fairly normal seaming, then the next he would be storming about his estate in a fit of anger, then a moment later, he might get a magical idea, and subject Myrduk to another round of tortuous experiments as if he should be happy for the attention. Pleased with the results of his own experiments, he would seem almost normal again, and perhaps give him some money or give the servants a holiday. He was very much disturbed by his Master's behavior.

"Master Negus, when should he return?"

Uktah held up his hands, "He left word he'd be here for lunch, but…"

Myrduk understood, the Master often changed his mind without warning, there was no telling whether he'd follow his schedule or not.

What Myrduk was very much afraid of, was that the Master might learn or think of something new, while amongst the mages, to try it on him.

The assassin didn't see himself as particularly brave, in fact he was fairly sure he was a coward, but he thought he had a right to fear Master Negus's "experiments".

Ten years of these continued magical workings had made him a perfect assassin. There were spells ingrained to make him walk silently at all times, enhance his senses, make him blend into the shadows, blend into crowds, undetectable by the Gift or the Sight, even extremely powerful dampening spells, to make magic unable to be used within a certain distance of him, and more.

But these came at a cost. Such rituals were very often painful, including such things as rewiring of his nerves, muscles or tissue, blood sacrifices, spells etched into his flesh and even…dare he think it, rape; these things tore at his mental stability as well as his physical make-up.

Four years ago, he had been in even worse a mental state then he was now. But the Master had realized he was losing his toy to the workings, his mind and body unable to sustain them no longer, and he'd done another working that would make his mind and body more compatible with the magic.

That working had required him to be tattooed from head to toe in magical symbols; a process that was probably the least endangering ritual Myrduk had ever had to go through. But then, the renewed stability of his mind made the next altogether worse.

He couldn't even think about it. The physical violation had been so disgusting, it had caused him to temporary amnesia and he'd been bedridden for a week, and he still could barely look anyone in the eyes for a year. But then again he was a slave, it wasn't required he look anyone in the eye.

Myrduk hadn't come in for any reason other than to ask that question; and with it answered, he was at loose ends. But he hated to be alone, he knew that he had excessive paranoia and nervousness, Master Negus often had a Healer take a look at him to make sure he was still mentally and physically well and Master Negus's personal healer Mabel, a white-skinned, golden-harired female of very kind nature, had diagnosed him herself.

When there was no one around but himself, Myrduk often worried himself into knots, in fact he felt most comfortable when there were a great many people around him, out in the open and in crowds. He didn't like them talking or interacting with him, but the fact that they were there made him feel at ease. Master Negus couldn't do anything to him in public.

Uktah didn't mind if he took up a chair in his office as long as he didn't bother him, Myrduk had done it before, so he stayed.

One wouldn't think a slave would have any free time, but he was a specialist-slave, and his specialty was killing people, even more especially, killing mages. And when he didn't have a job to do, he really didn't have anything to do. So as Uhktah realized he wasn't going to say anything else, he went back to shuffling papers and signing documents as Myrduk just stared absently out the window.

There was some activity going on two floors below them, Myrduk could easily feel the differences in the servants emotions using his magically endowed senses. And like a blaze a great blazing fire, he could feel the slate-gray color signature, of his Master's magic appear, neither he nor his Master could understand how he was able to distinguish colors, when he couldn't see people's magic, he could only _feel_, it, but Myrduk could none the less; and he was automatically on his guard.

Uktah had worked for Master Negus for almost thirty years, and had known the young assassin for the ten he'd been one of the Master's slaves. He thought it quite a shame the kid had fallen into the assassin's guild, and even more a shame he'd been so good at his job. Otherwise, Master Negus wouldn't have taken such an interest in him.

The boy, a man really, he was in his late twenties but Uhktah thought of him as a boy, was a severely withdrawn and sensitive at the best of times, but whenever their master was around, he was so dead-pale he could have passed for a Scanran, and so tense he was shaking.

Uktah and the servants also knew more about what was going on with the boy than they let on, and they felt for him dearly. Over the past ten years they'd seen the results of whatever horrible things Master Negus had been doing to him, and by now they often wondered that he was still alive and as well as he was.

He really was a nice fellow; Uktah could imagine him as a carpenter or a baker easier than an assassin, but the truth of the matter sat before him; the boy was an assassin, and what that kind of life, combined with all the things he'd seen, done and been subjected to over his life, had almost destroyed his personality; which, from what he'd been like at the beginning, before he'd been changed so much, when he was just eighteen, he had been very kind and sincere; a very nice kid.

Uktah didn't know how the boy had managed to keep that sweetness intact with so much of the killing he'd done, but it hadn't been able to stand up against Master Negus; nothing could. Now you couldn't get him to string half a sentence together, and he sounded strange when he did bring himself to, and Uktah couldn't even remember the last timed he'd smiled or wore an expression other than solemnity or anxiety.

Uktah saw Myrduk flinch and grow pale; Master Negus must have arrived after all.

Somehow Myrduk always knew when the Master was around. He and the other servants and a few of the slaves had the theory that one of he things the Master had done to him allowed him to know such things, but it was just a theory.

He stood up and Uktah followed suit as Master Negus, opened the door without bothering to knock. Both the slave and servant bowed low, but Master Negus wasn't paying attention to Uktah right now.

The Mage wore a fanatical expression and Uktah immediately saw what was coming. Motioning for Myrduk to come with him and saying, "Come, come! I had the most _wondrous_ idea to work on you, I shall try It." the mage looked like a death trap and Uktah could see him sink in upon himself and his eyes looked even deader than usual as he straightened from his bow and followed the mage out of Uktah's office.

Uktah shook his head sadly, _and the boy just got over the last episode,_ he thought. Three weeks earlier, the Master had called him with another _idea_ and Myrduk had stared at the floor for five days straight, would hardly eat a thing and wouldn't speak to anyone, not even Mabel, the kind healer woman that could usually manage to get him to murmur something even at the worst of times.

He tried not to think about it and when back to his work.

Finally at dinner he pried himself away from his papers, deciding to walk down the stairs instead of calling a servant to bring him food; his legs were cramping from lack of movement. Walking into the kitchen, he was slightly surprised to see Myrduk sitting in a stool next to a small table at the end of the kitchen, the head cook, Aneka, a middle-aged dark-skinned woman with a fondness for flamboyant colored clothing and an obsessive need to feed people, hovered over him trying o get him to eat something. Mabel was also there shaking her head sadly.

Uktah walked passed the many assistant cooks and servants, some getting irritated by his lack of concern for his getting in their way and interrupting their work. As he came closer, he saw that Myrduk's eyes were unfocused as he stared at the floor, not responding to any of Aneka's pleas or him to eat her stew, which was sitting on the table.

He was paler than ever and shaking. The boy wasn't a black or brown toned full-Carthaki, although he did have a darker toned skin then most white's and was usually so tan you didn't notice the difference from him and a northern Carthaki, but it was easily seeable now, he looked see-through, he was so ashen.

"Come on Darlin', _please_ eat something. It'll make you feel better, I promise." Aneka begged, her expression full of worry and concern. But he didn't respond in the least, he just kept staring at the floor.

"How is he Mabel?" Uktah asked as he came over.

The blond healer sighed and said, "As well as can be expected I suppose. It's not as bad as a lot of the times…but he's skin and bone as it is, if Aneka can't get him to eat, he could get sick. When you don't eat to get energy, it leaves you're body weak to fight diseases."

This was just so wrong; but there was nothing any of them could do about it. Uktah decided to try is hand at getting him to eat.

"Mabel and Aneka are right. You have to eat something, just a little…" He said.

No response.

"What's wrong with him?" one of the kitchen workers asked, as he carried a pot over to the large sink where some other servants were washing dishes.

The two female kitchen hands washing dishes, who'd came with them from Master Negus's estates and knew the situation, whispered to him.

"That's Myrduk. Master Negus…does things to him. He's often sick feeling, because of it," one said to the servant.

"Yes, and you leave him alone unless you're going to help. The poor man, he's so nice too, he's actually helped me with that monstrous black kettle quite a few times…" said the other. The servant was slightly confused and gave Myrduk, Uktah, Mabel, and Aneka an odd look before continuing his work.

"_Please, _Honey? At least for my sanity, just eat what you can, if you start to feel sick just stop, okay? Please? For me?" Aneka said, trying one more time to get him to eat the stew.

"Well, I-I suppose…" Myrduk said, his voice quiet as could be and sounding even stranger than usual.

Aneka's face brightened as she watched as Myrduk brought a shaking hand to grasp the spoon she held out for him. Uktah and Mabel sighed in relief and the girls washing the dishes saw he was eating as well.

"Oh, thank the gods, look, Aneka got him to eat."

"Yes, every time I see him like that I think 'that's it, we've lost him!' but he really is tough, I don't know if I could keep going like that."

"Me neither!" the two managed to gossip before Aneka shook a ladle at them, saying they were I _supposed_ to be working, not chatting.

"Now you just stay here and eat Babe," Aneka told Myrduk and he nodded absently.

Mabel patted him on the shoulder, and checked some bandaging on his left hand that Uktah hadn't noticed before, and left the kitchen back to her own office.

Uktah went to get what he came for, Aneka's fabulous stew, then took a last look at the assassin, and went back to his own office. Myrduk would be fine here in the kitchens. He always seemed most comfortable when there were a lot of people and noise about; though Uktah hadn't a clue why, he already had a head ache from the constant clanging of dishes.

Myrduk himself managed to eat a fourth of the stew before he had to stop; he was just too anxious and unsettled, his stomach was starting to reject what he'd put into it.

Master Negus had thought of a way to refine the dampening spells upon him, which had required a lot of etching in his skin, but not much else on his part. He was weak from loss of blood, and he wanted to sleep but he knew we wouldn't be able to, so he just sat in the kitchen and let the sounds wash over him. Aneka took the bowl away, and urged him to lay down but he shook his head to say he didn't want to.

He just stared off, his eyes unfocused and staring at the tiles of the kitchen.

Someone sat down in a chair across the table to him.

"Why so glum, Dearie?" came a female voice. For a moment he thought it was Aneka, but his eyes focused as he began to pay attention to what was going on around him and he say an old slave with a cragged-face, white hair and an eye-patch over one eye. She smiled at him and he saw she was missing teeth.

He'd seen her before, but not at the manor.

Scanning the kitchen, he saw that no one seemed to see that the old woman's presence was out of place. Someone noticed that he'd looked up, and came over to the table to ask him if he needed anything, ignoring the old woman completely. He shook his head and the servant shrugged and went back to work.

"Young people these days, they forget that the old even exist!" she said haughtily, he just blinked at her, she turned to him and smiled a crooked smile with one eyebrow up, "Oh, I don't mean you Dearie, you always leave me incense every week!"

"I, er…"

"I know you're not feeling too well, let you're old Grandmother take care of it, eh?" she said.

And the next second she was gone, and on the table were a pair of silver dice, the pips marked with sapphires. Hands shaking, not only from his state of health but from shock and disbelief, he reached out and took the dice in his right hand, his left being bandaged.

They were real. The Graveyard Hag really had come.


	3. Spectral Evidence

CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELEIF, I AM NOT DEAD! 

Also contrary to popular opinion, I don't own Tammy Pierces Stories …or was that just wishful thinking? I think it was.

My family is remodeling our house so my computer isn't hooked up so I can't get in it to finish writing the next chappy of Prov. Be rest assured, few readers I have managed to sustain and who also read TfS. It might be hooked up within a week or so though so keep faith. I was having a little trouble writing this chapter of this story for some reason, don't particularly know why, but I'm under the suspicion that a sudden obsession with Naruto manga had something to do with it.

And no, I did NOT go on register as a Narutofan and get access to every single chapter of the manga they have on record (which is 298 by the way, that's 31 volumes) download and read each and every page of every one, then fantasize about Kakashi and draw excessive fanart…

Okay, fine maybe I did do that.

I'm actually good at drawing, though, so I was justified in the fanart thing…or at least not embarrassing myself with it. One day I'll post something for you guys. Maybe when I get my wacom tablet working again…damnable thing, we keep changing computers then I have to reload the software.

Anyways, **Responses Galore! **

**Numair's lover,** Oh my god, I do that to. Though it's usually when I'm writing essays for my demonic Engish teacher. That was last year though so I can try to forget him…try is the key word there, to took freaking ten points off my flippin' essay just because I didn't document my quotes properly! "_Nyah nyah! You have to have only ONE period and it has to be OUTSIDE the parenthesis and you need ONLY the number inside and—,"_ It was always _something_ with him. Not to mention we were always reading two books at once, plus vocabulary tests, and quote tests and cliché tests and finishing up the essay of the LAST book we read…That class made me hate English.

About the Numy and Daine dealio, by all means if I think of a good enough story to feature them in, I'll write it, but I have to say that I haven't thought of anything yet, but we'll see. Numair _is_ in this one a little, and we'll be seeing him and Daine a little more in Prov in the next Part, but I don't have anything that features them in the works at the moment. The other two stories I'm going to start posting (Either when I finish Part four of Prov. Sm or when I finish the entirety of this story, whichever comes first,) don't have either of them at all. One's on Alan mostly, but also shows a lot on how Kel and Dom manage things. The other is an Emelan Universe fic with Tris and Lightbridge, I already have a chapter and a half done on that but I'm not going to post it for a while.

You can check out more of that on my bio, it's at the bottom in the Soon To Come section. It's actually got a lot of relevant information there. You might want to take a look if you haven't already.

But like I said, it's got to be a REALLY good idea, or I won't post it. I also have to have a good idea on where it's going to go, because otherwise things end up like my last couple of fics, left to rot, if you know what I mean. Because I just think if you're not going to write a story that you think really rocks, you're just clogging things up and insulting the characters. I like Daine and Numair too much to just butcher them with some piece of crap, not that anything I or anyone else writes is a piece of crap by the way, I just want to make my point. I think you understand, though.

Anyways, hope you like and review me please, this fic only has six reviews…and I do love reviews. Any suggestions on a storyline for Daine and Numair is really welcome too, if you think of any. Can't promise I'll use them or even like them but they might help me think of something good for it. That goes for anyone, suggestions on plot line are welcome, although I'll tell you right now I don't do fan service. I might use them IF I like them enough and if they don't detract from where I want the story to go.

**Nativewildmage** thanks for the review, glad you like it. Review again! I love reviews. 

**Please RER: Read, Enjoy, Review!**

Oh, and due to lack of relevant information (or relevant memory, maybe, could be either) I used some poetic/literary liaisons when it came to mage-robe ranks. If it doesn't match up with your perceptions, I'm sorry but that's just too bad. Just forget your issues and go with it. Then at the end send me a review, you can even flame me if you want, I give permission, not that you need it. 

Something else important is I'm introducing the existence of a new country and culture that doesn't exist in the original canon. Once again, go with it. I would like the feedback though, at the end…even if it is flames.

A lot of stuff goes on here, it's pretty important. This is a long chapter, so be happy. ..if you want to.

**Turn from Shadow**

By LGR

**Chapter Three: Spectral Evidence**

"There he is!" Jamila pointed, trying not to seem too obvious. The group looked in the direction of her finger, to see a man standing idly in front of the Temple of the Graveyard Hag.

Thom understood why Nakik had said he would believe this man to be an assassin.

Even from this distance, Thom could see he was likely of mixed ancestry. Lacking the black skin tone of most southern Carthaki's, he looked more to be an olive tone that likely indicated at least one Carthaki ancestor somewhere along the line, although most of his facial features screamed to Thom as being from the north, having a thin, straight nose that was common to those in Tortal or Scanra, but virtually non-existent in Carthak blood. His hair was the black-brown of the locals, but lacked the frizz or curls; it was bone-straight, and shiny looking.

The man had the appearance of being quite tall, but as someone walked near to the supposed assassin, Thom could see he was only slightly above average in height. He was also surprised to see that the man was not very old, not even thirty.

But that wasn't what made him seem intimidating. The whole right side of his face was covered in a black tattoo of swirling, elegant arcs and symbols that continued down the man's neck to disappear beneath his clothes. Thom also saw evidence of corresponding tattoos on both his right _and_ left hands.

For his clothes, he wore a light gray, high-necked, tailed-coat with long cuffs that would have covered the tattoos on his hands, except that they continued along his fingers as well. Darker gray trousers were also present, as well as steal-toed boots. Thom didn't see any weapon's on him, but knew that didn't necessarily mean anything. His own Father was assistant Spy-master in Tortall, and his sister was Spy-master in The Copper Isles and he'd learned a thing or two enough to know that appearances were sometimes deceiving.

"He doesn't look like a slave. He doesn't have his head shaved, like most Carthaki slaves, and he has nice clothes." Gordan observed, but Nakik shook his head.

"Maybe not, but look at his mannerisms; the defeated posture, no non-slave stands like that. He's a slave all right; I'd say a badly treated one as well. He doesn't only look conquered, he looks half-dead." He told them.

And it was true, as Thom looked again, a shadow hung over him as if he thought himself unworthy of the notice of the rest of the world. This could be feigned, but Thom thought it wasn't a trick; and his instincts were good.

But while the others were observing his outside appearance, Thom was trying to scan his inside. Those Tatoos _might_ be ornamental, but he thought not. Thom recognized the few symbols he could make out from a diagram in book he owned. In fact, it was back in his room at the University. It was part of a spell that helped to stabilize and harmonize objects of power with outside magic. The man must have had quite a few magical workings done on him, to need something of that sort done to him.

After a few seconds of trying to find indications of Magical alterations done on in, Thom gave up. He didn't have the sight like his sister Aly. He couldn't just take look at someone and see that making was working on them, he could only make observations and guesses based on what he saw and felt. Either way, Thom was fairly sure that something had been done to the man, his outline looked faded or misty, making it hard to keep him in sight as a focus instead of part of the scenery, the mind didn't want to recognize him as _there_ which was very good evidence in Thom's book.

And a working like that was definitely Black-robe level. No doubt about that. Few people could even fathom such a thing was possible.

"He's moving." Naranda observed, at the moment when the man began to walk towards the bustling crowd. Tahiri immediately leapt to follow him in what Thom assumed was supposed to be a 'stealthy' fashion. She looked like a heron wading through a swamp.

"Tahiri, what in Mithros's name are you doing?" Jamila asked, shaking her head at the girl's antics.

"I'm following him." She said in a whispered shout, after ducking almost violently behind a statue, then rushing to crouch behind a large palm-tree growing in a garden box in the street. She was drawing odd looks from some of the people nearby but mostly she was ignored.

"You're going about this all wrong. You're way too suspicious looking. You have to act _casual_." Thom instructed, and Naranda groaned, as he demonstrated by putting his hands in his pockets and strolled down the street while whistling.

Jamila, Ehoize, Nakik and Gorden stared confusedly then gawked even more as Tahiri when right along with him saying, "_Oh_! I get it now!" then proceeded to meander down the street behind him, looking in every direction other then the where she was walking, nearly tripping multiple times as her feet met unexpectedly with solid objects.

Everyone, even some of the passersby, winced as Tahiri collided with the back of a marble statue while looking in the opposite direction. There was an audible "guh!" as the wind was knocked out of her and she stumbled back just barely managing to keep her balance.

"Are you okay?" Jamila asked worriedly as Tahiri rubbed the side of her jaw where she'd bashed against the sculpture.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said slightly sulkily then muttered, "Damnable statue…" her jaw starting to turn pink.

"Ooo, that's going to leave a bruise," Nakik informed her.

"Not bad for a beginner, but you have to keep your eye-on-the-prize, as it were. An eye on the street might not be a bad idea either." Thom said, for all the world sounding as if he were serious; maybe he was.

Tahiri went rigid and raised her hand in a salute, "I will next time, sir!" she told him, sounding equally grave.

Ehoize and Nakik stood there blinking in disbelief, while Gorden was hunched over as if he was in pain because he couldn't stop his fit of laughter. Jamila turned to chastise Naranda, "See what he's done? He's corrupting her! Didn't you say something about _keeping him out of trouble?_ Good job you're doing. Hmph!"

"I never said anything about keeping _Tahiri_ out of trouble! It's her own choice if she wants to follow his nonsense. Your argument is groundless!" Naranda shot back, her voice placing her in a University debate session.

Finally she sighed, "You're right," Jamila admitted, "How do you put up with that sort of thing? It tires me out just _watching_ them. Is he always like this?" She asked.

Thom and Tahiri were now acting like children playing battle, with Thom the officer giving orders and Tahiri the privet, obeying them. Gorden finished his laughing fit and joined in, treating the whole thing like a fabulous joke and occasionally snickering while Thom was 'giving instructions'.

"I've known him since I was twelve, I'm pretty much used to it by now, scary as that may seem." Naranda confessed.

"I feel for you." Ehoize added.

"Such," Naranda said profoundly, "is my fate."

Thom ordered the archers, (played by Tahiri,) to shoot down the evil general, (played by Gorden). Somehow in all of this Nakik was deemed the 'castle' and he and Tahiri ran in circles around Nakik chasing Gorden who seemed to be enjoying himself. Nakik just looked scared to death.

"So mote it be!" Thom yelled in response to Naranda's statement. Naranda then proceeded to smack her face in frustration. Apparently she wasn't quite as immune to Thom's foolishness as she let on.

"Hey pull yourselves together, he's still there you know." Ehoize informed them, meaning the assassin, as a crowd actually gathered to watch the ridiculous 'battle'. He shooed them away as Thom and Gorden whined that they'd been interrupted.

"We'll get you yet, evil Mage-General Gorden! Your reign of terror will end!" Thom mock scorned.

"Not if I get you first, short-goody-goody Mage-General Thom!" Gordan shot back.

Thom suddenly turned sober and with a frown said, " 'short'? Now that's just mean, Gorden."

"Yeah, it was a '_low_-blow'" Gorden spouted, and then snickered at his pun, "_'low', _'_short_',haha_…"_

"Agreed, it was be_low_ the belt." Tahiri added.

"You killed it Tahiri." Gorden said, his voice in mock disappointment, "It's not funny anymore."

"It was never funny to begin with." Thom said, moping. He wasn't as touchy as his little brother Alan at being short (Thom didn't know what he had to complain about, he was taller than Thom himself), but he was still sensitive about it.

"Hey, there he goes!" Ehoize said, drawing their attention back to why they were standing in the Temple district in the first place; that is to say, spying on the assassin.

Who was currently walking briskly away into a crowd.

The group went off after him, forgetting to be nondescript in the rush to not lose sight of the man.

Somehow he easily dodged the moving people as if they were standing still and ten feet from each other. He set off toward an even denser flood of bodies, and completely disappeared.

"Where'd he go! Where'd he go!" Gorden chanted, looking around almost violently.

"…What? How could he disappear like that? They're a lot of people to be sure but it wasn't like he was that far away or that ordinary looking. In fact, he downright stood _out_ from the crowd." Naranda thought aloud in puzzlement, "That just _shouldn't_ have happened."

"That's all the proof I need he's an assassin, or at least involved in some crafty business," Ehoize stated, they all agreed. Thom didn't mention the spell.

After lunch at a nice inn, they took a cart ride back to the University. "Well, at least the trip out here wasn't _all_ for naught," Thom said as they walked through the halls. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a coin of Carthaki currency, "Someone threw a coin for me after our 'performance!'" he showed them, with a laugh.

"I bet it was more like threw a coin _at_ you, Thom." Gorden told him.

"Hey, you were out there too, you have no room to talk."

"I _suppose_."

"Don't bother denying it."

"I'm not denying it…_per se_."

"Whatever. You're just jealous they threw me a coin and not you."

The rest of the group watched the two with condescension as their argument echoed down the gilded halls. One of the doors was shoved open and a Carthaki mage scolded them about keeping their voices down while people were actually _working_.

The two mages apologized profusely to the glaring older man, as the others snickered behind there backs. The mage must have been satisfied because after the initial lecture he returned through the door, as more snickers were heard from students within.

"Oh, Thom, it _is_ you." A voice said behind them, and they turned to see Numair with multiple other mages behind him looking to see what the ruckus was about. Apparently the non-Tortallans of the group didn't realize he was the Black-robed mage Numair Salmalín, else wise they'd have been gaping like fish.

Thom laughed nervously, "Ahaha…what gave me away?" he asked in jest. Other than Thom and Naranda who were used to this behavior, those in the group were confused when Numair took the question seriously and shrugged.

"Instinct I suspect." He told Thom, and then changed the subject with excitement, "But come in! You four as well! This fellow from some foreign country has an absolutely _ingenious_ way of combining Dampening and Disruptive spells along with Personal Wards together using Clemell's Law of Instantaneous-Digression and Fleming's Law of Reverse-Exertion Effects to produce self-sustaining wards that don't affect any magical working inside but cause magic to Disperse, and become unable to sustain itself, upon contact with the ward. It utilizes the magic employed upon it to power itself, and can be set by means of another spell to only activate when magic is used within a certain area, then subside to conserve use of energy!"

"Really?" Naranda asked wide-eyed in interest, "That's so clever! This has so many applications!"

"May I see it? Please!" Thom begged, "This could be useful, especially for sensitive magical objects one might not want disturbed!"

"That was my thought exactly!"

"Did you get any of that?" Gorden asked Ehoize, murmuring behind his hand.

"Er, not really."

"I am so confused, I can't keep up with all these different Laws and whatnot. It's hard to visualize everything." Tahiri confessed with a sigh.

"Don't worry about it," Naranda told her, "You'll understand what we're talking about once we see it, come on." She said, and motioned for them to come in as Thom was already following Numair in, discussing the theory of how the spell could be set under different conditions.

"Oh, my!" Naranda heard Tahiri gasped, and the others were taken aback as well, as a mage in the room with teal magic was casting high-powered spells on a small, carved, wooden-chest. Such enchantments should have rendered the little box into ashes, but the energy swept across the face of a mysterious barrier around the item, then converged on the opposite side and dissipated as if it had never been. The ward flickered then it to was gone.

"Master Xiāo-Yáng Zhá, this is absolutely wondrous!" The teal-magiked mage said excitedly then turned to shake the hand of the man next to him, both of whom were obscured from view. The large room itself seemed tiny with so many mages crammed in to see the new spell displayed.

"I thank you greatly for the compliment." They heard the man return, in thickly accented Carthaki.

Looking around to see where Numair had gone, Thom saw him already in the thick of things having a theoretical debate with a group of mages from Scanra. "Did Numair saw where the mage who made the spell was from?" Thom asked Naranda, who always seemed to be able to remember everything.

"No, he didn't." Naranda answered.

"Oh well," he said disappointedly, "I was curious. I don't recognized the accent, kind of reminds me of Yamani…"

"It's not Yamani. I know Yamani, remember?" Naranda told him slightly snappishly.

"Yes, I hadn't forgotten." Thom said in monotone, as if this were an old arguement, "I said it was _similar_ to Yamani, I didn't say it _was_ Yamani."

"Actually, you said it _reminded_ you of Yamani." Ehoize said from behind Naranda. The rest of the group nodded agreement.

Thom shrugged, "Well, either way, I didn't call it Yamani. Anyways, I want to see this person."

Naranda winced, and the rest of the group snickered, as Thom danced around like an idiot, trying to get a better look; most everyone in the room was taller than him by an inch or so, most more.

"Excuse me," he said and finally poked his head between two disgruntled Mareners to see the spell-crafter.

Five mages were in the center of the display area. One, Thom recognized as the mage with Teal-colored magic, an _extremely_ old man with skin the color of fine paper, and just as translucent, with a kind smile on his face that said he wasn't a scrooge.

The Second was the foreign mage, who actually _could_ have passed for a Yamani, to the ignorant observer. He had the characteristic almond-shaped, amber eyes, short cut jet-black hair, small stature, and light skin of the Yamani islanders, but there were subtle differences that one didn't notice at first glance. Like the different angled tilt of the eyes, the rounder face, and the different clothing.

While, Yamani men and women were both known for wearing garments called _kimono_, the foreign mage wore a stiff sleeved high-necked long, loose gray, silk shirt that was lined with black buttons of looped and twisted braid, from top to bottom. The entire sleeves were embroidered in white, black and gold Cranes. The loose pants were plain black silk covering little black shoes.

Definitely _not_ Yamani clothing.

"Are all mages of Xhíanyin great spell-crafters?" the Teal-mage asked.

"We all have our strengths and weaknesses." He answered as the other three mages, who Thom knew to be Emperor Kaddar and Empress Kalasin (or Kally, as he used to call her when they were little) wearing severely paired down versions of imperial garb with only golden circlets and sparse gold and black eye paint to distinguish their rank, and Master Negus, who seemed to be simultaneously impressed and absolutely disgusted, examined the little box.

Thom had thought there was something off about Master Negus from the beginning, and this second encounter was no different. Watching the other Black Robe ask something of the foreign mage, Thom's eyes grew itchy and started to water.

He reached his hands up to rub his eyes, and then opened them to see a far different view than he'd expected.

**_A shadow of a man held the black robe by the throat, and had him clutching at the man's arm, trying to pry it from his neck. Master Negus's face was sweating and red, as he poured his steel-gray magic into his attacker in vain. It broke onto a ward and made kaleidoscope patterns of color as it swept around him and disappeared._**

"_**I MADE YOU!" He sputtered in desperation as the hand grew tighter and tighter. "YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME!"**_

"_**You made it so I could." The shadow said, his voice like lightening leaping from the sky as symbols erupted and spread neon blue light on the scene, bringing the shadow into focus. The shadow closed his eyes, then his fist clenched around the mage's throat while neon blue magic pulsed into him, and the mage's head exploded. **_

No one noticed as Thom grew pale and shook slightly, for no reason that was apparent. Getting himself under control, Thom realized no time had passed, and tried to analyze what he'd seen.

It had been a vision. His Mother was adept at healing. His uncle had been able to read minds at times. To Numair, breaking other's spells was second nature. And Naranda was an area-spell specialist. All mages had things they were particularly good at, but usually these weren't self-manifesting things that you had no control over, like having visions.

No, that was a rare ability. Thom thought it had some connection with The Sight, but there was no way t tell, they simply didn't know enough about where magic came from to distinguish that. Either way, Thom had it, and dealt with it. This was only the eighth time it had made itself known, and shown him a future, but every time it had happened, it had been something important.

Thom just hoped he wouldn't have nightmares about that one. He was feeling pretty green right now, that scene was right up there with when Alanna had been forced to behead a pirate, who had broken into their castle at Pirate's Swoop, right in front of him when he was seven.

He told himself not to think about it and tried to look normal as he realized Master Negus had broken off his conversation and drifted through the crowd someplace out of sight.It was now Kalasin and Kaddar who were speaking with the Foreign Mage.

"It was so good of you to come with the delegation of mages from the Yamani Isles, you seem to be much of a traveler." Kalasin observed and Kaddar nodded beside her in agreement.

"Traveler? Yes, I am very much a traveler. Very few of us leave our land, and fewer still go beyond the Islands of the Yamanis to the east or the Silken Mountains to the west. I am very honored to be apart of this great collaboration of Mages of different nations and teachings." The Xhíanyian Mage said with a bow, that differed slightly from both the standard bows of the eastern lands and the Yamani bows.

Both Kaddar and Kalasin were very interested in the mage's origins but understanding that others around them were also waiting to question the mage, and on matters pertaining to the actual _spell_. They made their questions politely few then stood back to allow others a chance to have their inquiries answered. Being curious mages themselves it wasn't hard for them to show quiet interest in the theory and applications of the spell.

"I can't wait to stick that on my box of truth-spelled jewelry." Thom heard Naranda say next to him. Somehow she and the others had finagled their way into the inner ring to see as well. "Every time I want to cast area based spells on some of my other things, I have to move it out of my room. All the jewelry goes haywire." Looking at Thom she frowned, "Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine." Thom said and tried to prove it with an idiotic grin but she didn't seem convinced and gave him a look that said _you and I are going to have a little chat later…_Thom laughed nervously.

"I'd put it over my mercury vials their always absorbing one spell or another in my workshop." Jamila commented.

"Aly will want all the mages to learn this I'm sure." Nakik added and he pulled out a blank notebook from nowhere and started scribbling things down.

"Now that I see it, it really isn't that complicated. It would be awesome if one could get it to store the energy away, you'd need a gem or something to hold the magic, though…" Tahiri stated, looking over the spelled box with concentration.

"And you said you were new at this." Naranda rolled her eyes, and Tahiri smiled at the compliment. Thom stuck his nose right up to the spell and walked around it, looking at it from all angles.

" A gem? Hm, you could do that but it wouldn't be worth it unless you don't expect it to be around much magic to absorb and store." He said, "Gems break really easy if they have to much magic stored in them. They can usually only hold about one-spell's worth, and those are the big ones too."

"Oh, well what do you suggest, Short-Goody-Goody-Black-Robe-Mage-General Thom?" Gorden asked sarcastically. Thom didn't seem to notice.

"What I would do," Thom said, "Is use a gem, say a Black Opal—or actually I think a large Amber would be better in this case. That or a Blue Topaz if I could find one—anyways, use the gem to hold a magic-containment spell, and integrate a siphoning-spell into the absorption part of the original spell. Of course either way you do it you'd have to fiddle around with the absorption part so that it only siphoned the excess magic, not what's needed to power the spell itself."

Tahiri had her eyes closed trying to picture it while Naranda said something about maybe being able to substitute a Star-Sapphire for Blue Topaz in the spell, with modifications of course, and everyone else seemed slightly confused.

"A Magic-containment-spell? There aren't any spells like that." Jamila said, "If there was you wouldn't have to store magic in crystals any more!"

"Well, how do you _think_ I got my Black robe? You can't just ask for one you know, you have to do something pretty spectacular." Thom said, showing the first bit of cockiness about his rank since they'd met him. Apparently, Thom was human after all.

"What, you mean…you made one?" Gordan asked still a little confused, and Thom nodded, still looking fairly proud of himself. "But…how did you get passed the Law of Unstable-Energy-Decomposition?"

"You can see my notes later." Thom said, "It's not as difficult as it sounds."

"Yeah, well that's nice and all, but I want to figure out what anchors the spell to the box. I don't _see_ any markings…" Naranda mumbled looking over the little box and coming up short.

"It's an area-selection spell set to incorporate a certain amount of space around an established point anchored to a symbol carved on the bottom of the box." A heavily accented voice said and they all finally noticed the foreign mage listening in on their conversation. And they were slightly surprised to see he was only about twenty-five. They also noticed they were all alone; the other mages had left.

"Oh! Master—Er…what was it?—Jow-yan-Zah?" Tahiri spluttered unintelligibly.

"Master Xiāo-Yáng Zhá. But just Xi­āo is well enough," He said easily.

"Jow?"

"Jz-ee-ai-oh."

"Jayo?"

"…close enough, I suppose." The mage decided with a sigh, as Naranda picked up the box to look at the bottom and confirm the symbol's existence.

"Does it have to be a magic symbol?" Naranda asked.

"No."

"Hmm, I suppose that ugly butterfly painted on the bottom of my jewelry box turned out to have a purpose after all." Naranda mumbled to herself.

"Er…" Xiāo looked confused.

"This is a really good spell. What robe are you?" Thom asked.

"Red." Xiāo said and everyone other than Thom and Naranda looked bug-eyed.

"Was going to say, if you weren't a red robe that spell would qualify you." Naranda told him.

"Actually, it's what _did_ qualify me."

A Mage's strength, skill, experience, and knowledge of theory and application were measured by tests and the Ordeal of Sorcery, and depending on their performance, would be awarded with a robe: black being the highest, and descending to red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and lastly white.

Blue, purple and white robes, however, were considered "novice" ranks and not "mastery" ranks and were awarded without an ordeal of sorcery. The spirit of the Chamber of the Ordeal rewarded the others, and one could always retake the ordeal to secure a higher robe, however, if one failed, they usually died. That was why Mages had to prove to councils and the like they were ready to take higher ordeals; most universities and Mage schools hated to have their students and staff die because of over-confidence on the Mage's part.

"Figured as much." Naranda said, "The spell that qualified me for Red-robe was a traveling-mute-shield." The others had their jaws hanging open both at the surprised that Naranda was a red robe and that she'd managed to make a traveling ward, that is to say, a ward that moved _with_ the spell-caster and was not anchored to the ground.

"er…whatsa mute-shield?" Tahiri asked Thom, embarrassed at here lack of knowledge.

"A mute shield is a ward that wards-off sound within the shield." Thom murmured to her.

"Ah…no fair, you all are high class mages and I _just_ got my Green robe credentials two weeks ago!" Tahiri said sadly.

"We're hardly high class mages Tahiri, I'm only an orange robe myself," Nakik said.

"Jamila, Gorden and I are only _Yellow_ robes." Ehoize told her, "I mean we can't _all_ be red or black robes or what would the point be?"

"I suppose you're right."

"Come on. It's dinnertime. I'm half-starved." Gorden said, "We can continue this over some of that awesome cinnamon-spiced-rice and raison stuff. Whoever thought to put rice and cinnamon together should win a prize or something, I swear." And he started walking out the door as everyone else agreed, and followed him.

Eating their dinner in the dining hall of the University, Xiāo had somehow managed to be incorporated into the group. The rest of the mages seemed to think it was befitting, after all he was only about twenty-five even if he was a red robe. Being a black robe hadn't managed to win Thom any points with old-timers, so this wasn't that unexpected.

Thom was silently embarrassed for the Dean of the Carthaki University, he would have thought they'd have the courtesy to treat a _foreign_ mage at least slightly more exaltedly than regular-everyday Tortallans, Scanrans or Mareners. It was a show of respect to mages of other cultures.

Not that Thom was complaining. He had been serious when he'd said he'd rather sit here than at the high table. Everyone else was glad Xiāo was seated with them as well. Although he did talk a lot, everyone found. Thom would have thought he was more the shy type like Nakik. But he chattered more than most _girls_ he knew, which was decidedly unusual.

Thom realized something, "Where's Master Negus?"

"Who?"

"Master Negus," Tahiri supplied then whispered to Xiāo, "He's a black robe that we have suspicions about. He has an assassin that kills mages."

"He has an assassin that kills mages?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Naranda deadpanned but everyone ignored her.

"You're sure he has an assassin? Why hasn't he been arrested?" Xiāo asked.

"No one can prove it." Nakik said.

"Well, who is this Master Negus person, maybe we can find some evidence."

"I don't think we'll find anything if all the Carthaki authorities haven't managed it by now." Thom answered, "But you must know who he is at least, Master Negus was looking at your spell earlier."

"My spell? Er…Oh, you mean that really sour looking guy in black?"

"Yes, I'd say that's an adequate description." Thom said as the rest of the table snickered slightly. "What was he looking at your spell for? I mean, besides that fact it was interesting and all."

"Umm, he asked what sort of alteration you might need to do in order for the spell to work on a living object…I told him it would be easier, and safer, to make the spell have a large spread and place it on a worn object but he seemed to think I was an idiot or something—,"

"A living object? Why would he ask about that?" Thom wondered. He'd stopped paying attention to his food ages ago, and right now he was absently swishing it around with a fork.

"He was probably just speculating. Anyways it could be useful to place something like that on a person. It could really protect them from Mage attacks and the like." Naranda justified then realized what she had said.

"Protect from mage attacks… he's putting it on the assassin…" Thom mused. It went right along with what he'd observed on the man earlier. Master Negus was experimenting on that assassin. That would also explain how he managed to kill mages despite the fact he was ungifted himself.

"Maybe," Jamila said, not really buying it, "But don't you think you're jumping to conclusions? This _is_ a mages convention; he could just be here to gain knowledge, like the rest of us. You could easily use that spell to, say, protect the _Emperor_ from a mage attack. Either way, putting a spell on a person isn't a crime. It doesn't prove anything." She told them angrily.

"Jamila you were the _first one_ to say something was up from the start—," Gorden began but didn't get to finish.

"_Here me out!_ I'm just saying, this is all a little too easy, don't you think?" she told them as they all thought it over. Everyone was taking this seriously, even Xiāo, who'd only been clued in recently.

"Fine." Thom said after a moment, "We won't jump to conclusions, like you said…But hunches run in my family, and I have a hunch something is going on here. Maybe it's not as simple as an Egocentric Black robe thinks he can pick off mages one by one, or maybe it is. But we'll find out eventually." He promised them.

He still hadn't said anything about either the vision or the spell on the Assassin, but the look Naranda was giving him, demanded he do so soon.

_I'll tell you later_ he told her with a glance.

_You had better_ came an answering expression.

"I think we should go to bed." Ehoize suggested. No one had touched the remains of their dinner in a quite a few minutes, seeming content to stare off into other worlds as they pondered in silence.

Gorden wasn't making snappy jokes, Xiāo wasn't talking excessively, Tahiri wasn't inferring she was stupid, Naranda wasn't being sarcastic, Jamila wasn't being bossy, Nakik was looking more nervous than ever, and Thom wasn't acting like a fool. In fact, his expression was what many of them were pondering, aside from the current puzzle of the assassin. He had his hands together, close to his mouth staring at the table in a way that made Ehoize think it would catch fire any second. Thom _looked_ like Black robe, and it was slightly unsettling.

"Bed," Thom answered, "Sounds like a great idea to me. G'night, everyone. " And he got up from his seat just as Naranda opened her mouth and Thom interrupted without even looking at her, saying "I know Naranda, I'll tell you tomorrow. I promise." She sighed in worry as he walked out the hall.


End file.
